Clear as Day
by Nightsmoke
Summary: Back at the Shinigami Dispatch academy, Grell steals William's glasses, and humor ensues when he realizes that Will is as blind as a bad without them. OMAKE AT THE END!


All characters © Toboso Yana

_Summary:_ Back at the Shinigami Dispatch academy, Grell steals William's glasses, and humor ensues when he realizes that Will is as blind as a bad without them. A special omake at the end!

* * *

**Clear as Day  
**

It isn't his fault that the Shinigami Dispatch academy doesn't have private facilities.

It isn't his fault that he likes to wash up the same time as William.

It isn't his fault that William showers without his glasses on and leaves them by the sink.

It isn't his fault that he picked them up by mistake as he was getting ready.

It _is_ his fault, however, for keeping them the rest of the morning.

Student Grell Sutcliffe turns the spectacles around in his hands, noting the intricate patters on the temple. The nose pads are loose (_which is probably why he keeps having to push them up,_ Grell thinks). Like most Shinigami, he too is myopic—it seems to come with the job more and more frequently these days. His prescription isn't terrible—20/400, more or less. Nothing he can't handle if his glasses were to go missing.

Twirling the end of a ponytail that spills over his shoulders like velvet fire, Grell wonders if William's vision is better or worse than his.

He decides to keep the glasses in his room a little while longer.

* * *

--

"Sutcliffe! What in blazes have you done to this coffee?" William snaps the minute Grell steps into his office.

"E-excuse me sir, but I don't think I'm who you're looking for," the man who has come to deliver papers stammers. He too has vibrant ginger hair, but he is not Grell Sutcliffe.

"Oh, did someone call my name?" Grell pops by as the flustered worker leaves.

"Yes," William says acridly. He holds up his mug and asks, "Did you put something in this?"

Grell puts a hand to his heart. "I wouldn't dream of it, dear William," he answers. "No really, I haven't touched your coffee." _I have, however, put the salt and sugar containers next to each other to see if you could tell the difference,_ he wants to add.

"This tastes god-awful!"

_Apparently you can't.

* * *

_

--_  
_

Grell follows William around the rest of the day, which is nothing out of the ordinary: his adulation for his classmate is well-known among the Shinigami. William speaks nothing of his missing glasses; he is a man, and men, especially those as rigid as he, don't complain about such trifle setbacks. Grell has a feeling he wants to though. He also has a feeling, soon to be confirmed, that Will's vision is _definitely_ worse than his. A lot worse.

It proves to be the most amusing day Grell's had in months by far.

The highlight had to be right before lunch. Although the Dispatch academy has public facilities, the scant female population of reapers calls for them to be separated by gender.

Grell has to bite on his lower lip until his pointed incisors make him bleed as he watches William casually stroll into the women's restroom.

Grell waits outside, slapping his hand against the wall as he giggles wildly, waiting.

There are only a few feminine cries of exclamation, nothing more, but the door is quickly opened and William steps out, his complexion slightly florid. He sees Grell in close range and squints, frowning. "Sutcliffe?"

"Yes?" Grell chokes out.

The creases in William's frown deepen. "Something amusing?"

"No, dear William," Grell answers, composing himself. "I merely had a tickle in my throat."

William is silent for a moment. He straightens a wrinkle in his shirt (which is on backwards, Grell notices) and finally asks, "You of all people wouldn't happen to know where my spectacles may be?"

Grell looks alarmed. "Your glasses are missing?!" he exclaims in perfect surprise.

"Never mind you, Sutcliffe."

As he leaves, Grell remarks on how nice William's eyes are. They are tawny, like his, but much, much paler, almost a corn-yellow. A shame, that they are always hidden by panes of glass. William reaches the corner of the corridor and proceeds to walk straight into it. Grell can't take any more and breaks down, cackling.

The next morning William finds his glasses right by the sink, where he had initially left them. A little red heart is taped to the bridge.

_End._

* * *

**_Special Omake-thing_**

"Sutcliffe," William began, casually leaning against the wall of Grell's cubicle. Grell, in the middle of tinkering with his scythe, looked up with a doe's-eye look.

_Yes, you're in trouble,_ William's returning look told him. "Do you know what happens to clothes when you wash them?"

Grell blinked. His false eyelashes fluttered up and down. "Um…they get clean?" he shrugged, putting down his scythe. Dancing around a subject was unlike William, who was usually succinct to the point of brusqueness…unless something had him especially irked.

"Correct," said person replied dryly. "And," he continued, "What happens to the colors when they are wet?"

"Well they blend of course," Grell answered happily. "It's just like painting. Or makeup!"

"I see. And what happens, Grell Sutcliffe, to the color of red clothes, such as the garish ones you are wearing now?"

"I don't—"Grell began, fingering his overcoat, then froze as realization dawned on him. "Oh. _Oh."_

William held up his formerly white blouse, one of his favorites. He didn't care much for pink dianthus flowers, but the way his shirt was going, they would match perfectly on the lapel. "Pink, Sutcliffe. Pink."

A sleeve valiantly disguised to straighten his glasses covered a snort of laughter from Grell. He lowered his arm when he thought the sniggers were under control, still smiling.

William's eyebrows rose. "Bless you."

It was just too much. Grell really started to laugh now, wiping the corners of his eyes with a gloved hand.

Heaving a quiet sigh, William straightened his glasses. "Sutcliffe, you are never to do my laundry again," he said.

"S-sorry Will—"the apology dissolved in a wave of chortles.

"Furthermore," William went on, ignoring the laughter, "so you don't jeopardize the clothes of anyone else, you are to hand-wash your reds in the sink.

"Honestly, lecturing you on domestic care," he remarked curtly. "I am a Dispatch Shinigami, not your mother." And with that said William gathered his pink blouse and left.

"You can always borrow one of my red ties, Will!" Grell called after him. "It'll go with the shirt!"

_End._


End file.
